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Foster had questioned him about Demeter and his one-word answers didn’t satisfy him apparently so he’d taken to quizzing Ashford instead. The damned man showed far too much interest in her and he did not like it one jot. If his cousin was up to something, he would not have Demeter involved. She deserved better than someone wedding her for her wealth and status.
Of course, he was involving her with his cousin too, but it was different. He would protect her. Lord knew, the woman needed protecting. Her family showed such little interest that she was able to flounce around as a man in the most dangerous of areas and her aunt even encouraged it. He practically had a duty to watch over her.
“So when is this meeting and what does it involve?” she asked, lacing her fingers upon her lap, dragging his attention to her long legs.
He had to admit, women should wear pantaloons more often. If they were in daylight, he would take the time to admire her figure in such close-cut cloth.
“Where did you find trousers that fit?”
“Anton used to be a lot skinnier.” She waved a hand. “Blake, this meeting...”
“Has he not noticed his clothing go missing?”
“Of course not. Why would one notice trousers that do not even fit anymore?” She clicked her tongue. “But, Blake, what of this—”
“And the waistcoat is his? What about the timepiece?”
Her brow furrowed. “I do not see why any of this matters.”
He wasn’t certain either but he wanted answers. To it all. What had persuaded her to do such a thing? When did she get so good at cards? What did she do with her time prior to disguising herself?
She sighed when he didn’t respond. “The waistcoat is also Anton’s and the timepiece belonged to my grandfather. I always carry it. Even when dressed as a woman.”
His hand automatically went to his inner jacket pocket where the tiny carved piece of wood remained, as always. His heart gave a sharp jolt when she noticed the movement and he dropped his hand, offering a quick smile.
“In a week’s time,” he finally replied. “At The Red Lion.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I do not know it.”
“No, and nor should you. Its reputation is less than savory.”
“You know, your cousin hardly seemed the unsavory sort. Are you certain he is doing something untoward?”
“I know it.”
“Because your gut says so.”
“Precisely.”
“Yourgut.”
“Everyone has one, and mine is always right.”
“You know, your gut could be wrong.”
He leaned forward, bringing his elbows onto his knees. “Did we not already have this discussion?”
“I am simply saying, one’s gut cannot always be right. Foster seems so...” She twirled a finger in the air. “So soft. It’s hard to believe he is capable of anything criminal.”
“My aunt never wanted all her inheritance to go to one man. She had charities that should have received money yet when the will was read, they were not even mentioned.”
“Neither were you.”
It was impossible to be unaware of the rumors of his annoyance at not inheriting given he was closest to his aunt, but he didn’t give a fig. If he came undone at rumors, he’d have unraveled long ago. The idea Demeter might think him so greedy rankled, though.
“I have enough money,” he snapped and she blinked.
He bit down on his tongue and inhaled deeply. She didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of his irritation at the situation. After all, she was to help him, even if it was because he’d practically blackmailed her into it.
